THE SNOW MONSTER
by Dean Fiora
Summary: Kolchak is sent to India to do a feature story on Himansh, a research facility located high up in the Himalayas. However, there's a much bigger story when several scientists are clawed to death.


Kolchak: the Night Stalker in

 **THE SNOW MONSTER**

by Dean Fiora

As I'm not a fan of winter, you can imagine how thrilled I wasn't when my dear editor, Tony Vincenzo, sent me on assignment to the Himalayas. Little did I know just how chilling the experience would be.

I knew something was up when I was summoned to Vincenzo's office, only to find Howard Kirschenbaum of the I.N.S. corporate office standing next to the desk. He and Vincenzo often had meetings, but Kirschenbaum always sat for them.

Acting nonchalant, I asked, "Another meeting with Corporate, eh, Tony?"

A smirking Kirschenbaum replied, "No, Mr. Kolchak, there's no meeting. I just wanted to see the look on your face."

I knitted my brows. "What look on my face?"

Kirschenbaum suppressed a laugh.

Vincenzo took a deep breath. "Carl, I have an assignment for you."

"All right, let's hear it."

"You're going to the Himalayas."

Unable to contain himself any longer, Kirschenbaum burst out laughing.

My mouth dropped open. "I must have misheard you, Tony. You didn't just tell me I was going to the Himalayas?"

Wearily, Vincenzo replied, "Yes, Carl, that's what I said. The Indian government just opened a high-altitude research facility near the Tibetan border. You're to do a feature on it."

"Why not send Sidney? He's the science editor."

Kirschenbaum answered for Vincenzo. "Because I want _you_ there, Mr. Kolchak."

"Why? What did I ever do to you?"

"Surely you jest! What have you ever done to me? You nearly gave me a heart attack by lying to me that there was a disaster with the printing press. You placed your buttocks near my face as I sat in that very chair (he pointed to it), and told me you were digesting a burrito."

"I only did those things to get you out of this office. You're always in here when I need to see Tony!"

Kirschanbaum continued, "Not to mention that your shenanigans get us flack from the police and the mayor. That stunt you pulled last week earned us a call from the governor's office!"

"As I already explained to Tony, I never told those F.B.I. agents that I was from the governor's office. I simply implied that he wouldn't appreciate it if they denied me access to their crime scene."

Kirschenbaum pulled out his iPhone and tapped the screen a few times. "The temperature at the Himansh facility is 22 below zero."

I felt my anger rising.

Vincenzo said, "I tried to warn you, Carl. I told you the new owners weren't as tolerant as I was. Why didn't you listen for once?"

I glared at him.

"Look, I'm sorry, but it wasn't my decision."

"No," said Kirschenbaum, "it was mine. What can I tell you, Mr. Kolchak? Revenge is a dish best served cold."

* * *

The flight to India was 14 hours long, and that was only the start of my trek. From there, it was an eight-hour road trip to Manali, followed by an additional four hours to Spiti Valley, the ostensible home of the Himansh facility. I say "ostensible" as its actual location is some 13,000 feet up in the mountains. The last leg of my odyssey would be by helicopter. But as stressed as I felt, it was nothing compared to what happened at Himansh while I was still in the air.

April 19th, 6:18 p.m. local time. To limit their exposure to the treacherous mountain climate, the scientists at Himansh sent unmanned drones to digitize glacier movements and cover snow variations. The drones took pictures and transmitted a live feed back to the facility. However, on this night, the viewscreen of drone #3 suddenly went blank. The tech on duty, one Vihaan Apte, alerted his supervisor, Dr. Pari Datta.

Staring at the inky darkness of the screen, Dr. Datta sighed. "That's the third drone this week."

"We never found the first two. I'm beginning to think something's wrong out there."

Dr. Datta shrugged. "We'll look for it in the morning."

April 20th, 7:00 a.m. local time. Apte and Dr. Datta bundled up in several layers of clothing. This included a thermal snowsuit with a battery-operated internalized heating unit. And they could still feel the cold, even within the confines of their two-person snow vehicle.

7:45 a.m. local time. The tech on duty at Himansh, one Anil Gupta, answered a radio call from the search vehicle. "This is Himansh. Go ahead, Vehicle One."

It was a frightened Dr. Datta. "He's dead! It killed Vihaan!"

Gupta was incredulous. "What? Is that you, Pari? What's going on out there?"

"It killed Vihaan and now it's going to kill me!" She let out a guttural scream, during which the audio cut out.

Gupta fiddled with the radio. "Pari? Are you there? Hello? Pari? For god's sake, answer me!"

A two-man search party-Arun Khatri and Ramkumar Patel-found the vehicle two kilometers from the facility. It was upside down. The windshield and side windows, each about an inch thick, had been smashed in. The interior of the cab was covered in blood and entrails. The horrified men followed a path of frozen blood. Before long, they had located both Vihaan Apte and Pari Datta—or rather, what was left of them.

When they regained their presence of mind, Khatri called Himansh with the grim news. His instructions were to return to the station, that arrangements would be made to collect the dead scientists. Meanwhile, Patel had walked back to the overturned vehicle for additional inspection.

He noticed the drone in the snow. It appeared to have fallen out of the back of the vehicle when it flipped. The drone was snapped nearly in two. Khatri and Patel carried it back to their own vehicle.

As Patel climbed into the driver's side, Khatri pulled out his iPhone and snapped some pictures of the grisly scene. They included a most unusual footprint.

* * *

Not that I knew any of this when the helicopter pilot motioned to the mountain range ahead of us. "That's Himansh. We're almost there."

I heaved a sigh of tremendous relief. "Praise the lord and pass the ammunition!"

I had no idea how fitting my utterance was.

* * *

The director of the facility, Dr. Sanjay Bangalore, was a short, slightly overweight man with a clean-shaven face and graying black hair. He met me at the helipad and drove me to the facility in a snow vehicle. He shouted over the engine noise, "You must be exhausted after your long journey. I'll show you to your quarters first thing. You can meet the staff later."

"That's fine with me. So, what does 'Himansh' mean?"

"Quite literally, it means 'a slice of ice'."

"Interesting. So, what kind of research are you doing?"

"We study and quantify the effects of climate change on the Himalayan glaciers. You see, the this region has the largest quantity of them anywhere outside the polar ice caps. This area feeds all of India's ten major rivers. It provides irrigation, electricity and drinking water for 700 million people."

"Impressive! And you have 14 people working up here?"

Hesitating, Bangalore said, "Twelve. Two of them were called away. Family emergencies."

"Oh! Sorry to hear that."

Bangalore was silent for the rest of the drive.

The wood and brick building was sufficient for up to 20 people. The front door opened into a carpeted room with electronic equipment lining three of the four walls. Five technicians—three men and two women—manned the equipment and barely looked up as we entered. Bangalore led me through a doorway at the far wall. It opened into a lengthy corridor with many doors on either side. A bearded young man in jeans and a heavy plaid shirt came out of a room and walked toward us. He and Bangalore nodded to each other as they passed. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the young man had turned around and stood looking in our direction. When he saw me looking back, he continued on his way.

My quarters were spartan. There was a cot, a desk, two chairs and a small dresser. The room itself had windowless painted white walls with nothing hung on them. I put down my suitcase, took off my boots, gloves and snowsuit, and laid down on the cot. It wasn't long before I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

I inhaled sharply and quickly sat up as an alarm blared. I slipped into my shoes, grabbed my camera, and threw open the door. Two young Indian men ran past me toward the front room. I followed suit. Catching up to them, I asked, "What's going on?" They didn't answer.

The front room was a shambles. The east wall had a gaping hole while tables, chairs and equipment were strewn across the floor. A scientist lay on his back, blood gushing from his abdomen. He breathed raggedly as two of his colleagues attempted to stop the bleeding.

As a staff member shut the alarm off, I approached a mortified Dr. Bangalore, who stood in front of the hole with a rifle in his hands. I placed a hand on his shoulder. Bangalore gasped and whirled around to face me.

I asked him, "What happened?"

"I've no time for questions, Mr. Kolchak. Please return to your quarters."

"I will not! I'm a reporter, and something newsworthy is going on. Now, what happened?"

"Something tried to smash its way into the room. I scared it off with a rifle shot."

"Did you hit it?"

"Possibly; I don't know."

"So, what tried to break in?"

"I don't know, Mr. Kolchak. It was a wild animal of some type. It all happened so quickly, I didn't get a good look at it."

I asked the room, "Did any of you see the animal?"

Kneeling next to his bleeding, moribund colleague, a man exclaimed, "Not now, sir! We're trying to save Satish's life."

The other kneeling man sadly shook his head. "It's too late. He's gone."

A heartsick Bangalore said, "Take him to the freezer."

The men lifted the blood-covered corpse and took it from the room.

Bangalore instructed two of his staff, "Please clean up the blood." To the others, "Let's patch this hole up." And to me, "Please, Mr. Kolchak; it's over. There's nothing here for you to see."

"Is there some way I can help?"

"Yes—by returning to your quarters."

I left the room, but not before snapping some pictures. Bangalore looked at me as if to object, but returned to the matters at hand.

I went back to my quarters, but only while the two men placed their colleague's corpse in the freezer and returned to the front room. With everyone distracted, I thought it would be a good time to have a look at the facility. To my surprise, most of the doors were unlocked. The first several opened into living quarters similar to mine. One led to a small janitor's closet with nothing of note. I also a found a workshop for (presumably) fixing broken equipment, along with a supply room stocked with dozens of cardboard boxes and items I did not recognize. Then there was a lounge with a huge TV set mounted on the wall and a DVD player beneath. On either side of the TV was a pair of storage racks holding a few hundred DVDs. I also noted overflowing bookcases and a stereo with perhaps 100 compact discs on a wall shelf. After the lounge came the kitchen, which again contained nothing out of the ordinary.

Then I found the freezer.

It was a walk-in affair with hundreds of pounds of food lining the shelves on either side, as well as the back wall. What caught my attention, however, is what I saw on the floor: three dead bodies. I had only expected one. They were similarly eviscerated, though the others were in much worse condition than the just-killed Satish. Whatever took their lives had also used the other two for food. I produced my camera and took pictures of the cadavers. Having looked in every room (except those with locked doors) and not knowing what else to do, I returned to my quarters and pondered my situation.

I needed to get through to Vincenzo, but how? There must be a means of communication from Himansh to the outside world, but what was it and how would I gain access? I had a feeling Dr. Bangalore would no more cooperate with me than did the police in Las Vegas, Seattle, Chicago, and New York.

* * *

I sat at my desk, dictating the day's events into my portable cassette deck—yes, I still use one—when there was a knock at my door. It was the bearded young man who had passed me and Dr. Bangalore in the hallway. He looked very anxious.

"Mr. Kolchak."

"Yes, I'm Kolchak. And you are…?"

"My name is Arun Khatri. Can we talk?"

"Sure." I stepped aside to let him in and shut the door. "What can I do for you?"

"I know who you are."

"You do?"

"Folklore and mythology are a hobby of mine. I've seen the websites and Facebook groups about you."

I had to chuckle. "Yes, I have a cult following. But the rest of the world thinks I'm a kook."

"Admittedly, I liked your stories for their entertainment value, but I never took them as fact."

"That puts you in the majority. You still haven't told me why we're having this conversation, though."

"Mr. Kolchak, I'm a man of science. I've spent my professional life studying that which can be verified or disproved empirically. But I saw what killed Satish. It was something I never thought existed."

I motioned to my cassette deck. "Can I record you?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Never hurts to ask. OK, what did you want to tell me?"

Khatri related the events of the previous day, which explained the two other corpses in the freezer. He also showed me the pictures he took with his phone. They were grisly, to say the least. The one that intrigued me the most was a shot Arun had taken of a three-toed footprint. I asked him its size.

"About 45 centimeters," he said.

"Centimeters?"

"Eighteen inches. Why do you Americans resist the metric system?"

I ignored that. "So, you saw what killed your colleagues. Care to tell me what it was?"

Khatri took a deep breath. "A Yeti."

"A Yeti. And what's a Yeti?"

"You Americans call it Sasquatch or Bigfoot. It's also been called the Abominable Snowman."

"And that's what you saw?"

"I got a good look at it, Mr. Kolchak. That creature matches every description of a Yeti that I've ever read. It also matches most of the artists' renderings I've seen."

I took in what Khatri was telling me. "So, what does a Yeti look like?"

"It must have been nine feet tall. It had thick white fur, sharp claws, and the most frightening teeth I ever saw. They were huge and yellow; I swear, they could bite through steel! Its face was like that of a simian, but no simian I've heard of. I'm telling you, Mr. Kolchak, it was a Yeti."

"Have you told anyone else?"

"I tried to tell Dr. Bangalore, but he was having none of it. I couldn't blame him. After all, the Yeti is assumed to be mythical. Until today, I had assumed it too."

"Until today," I said. "So, what do we do about this Yeti?"

Before he could answer, there was another knock on my door. I didn't open it. "Yes?"

A muffled voice said, "There's a meeting in Dr. Bangalore's office. Everyone must attend."

"What time?"

"Now!"

Bangalore's office was one of the few locked doors I had encountered. He stood in front of his desk, looking exhausted and grim. The rest of us stood around him in a semicircle.

"First," he said, "I wish to personally thank each and every one of you for the job you did after the attack. We patched up the wall in less than an hour. And cleaning up Satish's blood, along with moving his body to the freezer, was extremely unpleasant. But you did it with professionalism, and I very much appreciate it."

I raised my hand. "Dr. Bangalore? Question?"

He sighed. "Yes, Mr. Kolchak?"

"I need to get in touch with my editor in New York. How can I do that?"

"That's impossible. Our one means of communication, a radio phone, was damaged in the attack. We're going to start repair work after the meeting."

"Will you order an evacuation?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because three of your colleagues are now occupying a freezer!"

Bangalore glared at me.

"I saw them, doctor. That's quite a 'family emergency'."

"Mr. Kolchak, do you know how many years it took for Himansh to become reality? I'm not about to order an evacuation! We have important research to conduct, and we're going to do so." To the rest of the room, "Look, some kind of wild animal is out there. It's huge, it's strong, and it's vicious. But it's not invulnerable. I'm going to unlock the armory and issue each one of you a rifle. If you've no experience with one, I'll teach you. Mr. Kolchak, do you know how to use a rifle?"

"Yes."

"All right, I'll give you one too. Now, until the threat is eradicated, we'll be on 24-hour guard duty." He paused as staff members whispered to one another. "I know you're all scared, and so am I. But remember: we outnumber this animal and we have weapons that can bring it down. We will prevail."

I asked, "After how many more of us are killed?"

"This meeting is adjourned. Mr. Kolchak, please stay behind."

In hot water again.

Once we were alone, Bangalore said, "I'm going to need your camera."

"What?"

"I saw you taking pictures. I can't let you print them."

"You're not taking my camera! Ever heard of freedom of the press?"

"You're not in America now. And if you don't give me your camera, I'll report you to the Army. They'll make sure you don't leave India with those pictures you took."

Shaking my head, "It doesn't matter where I go. You goddamned bureaucrats are all the same. Fine, I'll give you the camera. But it won't stop the Yeti from tearing this place to pieces."

Bangalore laughed. "Yeti? I see you've been talking to Arun."

"Well, if it's not a Yeti, what is it?"

"I don't know. But it's a not a Yeti because they're a myth."

"Oh, yeah? Well, that myth capsized a two-ton snow vehicle, ripped a hole in your wall, and shredded three people. And I have a bad feeling the worst is yet to come!"

"I'm surprised at you, Mr. Kolchak. I thought reporters dealt in facts."

"We do. And the fact is, we're all in grave danger. We need to get off this mountain!"

"As soon as the radio phone is fixed, I'll send for a helicopter to take you away."

"What about everyone else?"

"That's my responsibility, not yours. Now stay out of my way and leave my staff alone. We have a job to do."

And so did I.

* * *

Bangalore was as good as his word. He did, in fact, issue me a rifle. But since I was a guest, he did not require me to pull guard duty. That, and the man didn't trust me one bit. Not that I blamed him.

I tried to look around some more, but now the doors were locked. I tried talking to staff, but they all brushed me off—except one. Later that night, Arun Khatri knocked at my door. As soon as I opened it, he said, "The Army is here."

"What?"

"We're required to transmit a signal every three hours. If we miss one, the Army sends a helicopter. It just landed."

"Bangalore never mentioned that to me."

"Did you expect him to?"

"Point taken. So, what's going on? Are we evacuating?"

"Quite the opposite. Bangalore is telling them to leave us here."

I slipped past Khatri and ran to the main room. An officer of the Indian Army stood rigidly near the front entrance. On his back, an AK-47 hung from a black leather strap. He was talking to Bangalore.

I heard the doctor say, "Really, Colonel, everything's fine up here. We just experienced a minor mishap."

"He's lying," I called out.

A startled Bangalore turned around. "Mr. Kolchak, return to your quarters!"

"The hell I will! Colonel, you've got to get us out of here. A Yeti attacked and killed three people."

"A Yeti?" He turned to Bangalore. "Who is this man?"

"An American reporter. I never should have let him up here. He has been nothing but trouble."

" _ **I'm**_ trouble?" I exclaimed. "I'm not the one keeping all these people in danger with my bureaucratic stubbornness."

The colonel asked, "Dr. Bangalore, what really happened here? And please don't repeat your story about high winds."

"Surely, you don't believe that man with his Yeti nonsense?"

"Nonsense?" I roared. "What about the three dead bodies in your freezer?"

The colonel's eyes opened into saucers. "Dead bodies?"

Bangalore shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. "Colonel, please. You and your men don't need to be here. I've everything under control. And I'd be most grateful if you took Mr. Kolchak with you when you left."

"I had better have a look at your freezer."

But before the colonel could do so, a crashing noise came from outside, followed by the sound of gunfire. He threw the door open and looked outside. Four soldiers fired at something in the dark, but I couldn't see it from my vantage point.

Not six feet from the colonel, a window shattered as a solider was tossed through it. He landed on the floor with a dull thud and did not move. The colonel cocked his rifle and fired out the window. I heard a primal roar from outside. Feeling the need for a weapon more powerful than the rifle in my quarters, I crouched down next to the soldier. He wasn't breathing and the puddle of blood beneath him grew wider. Clutched in his right hand was a bazooka (or whatever they called it in this part of the world). I hadn't fired one since my military days and hoped I hadn't forgotten what I learned.

As I relieved the dead soldier of his weapon, there was another crash as the front door flew off its hinges. My mouth dropped open as the Yeti smashed his way into the room. He bled from several holes in his chest and torso where the soldiers had shot him, but was still ambulatory and very much pissed off. Two soldiers appeared in the gaping jaws of the doorway, firing their AK-47s at the Yeti's back. Snarling, the beast whirled around and swung its blood-covered claws at the soldiers. The poor bastards each gurgled as their guts poured out of them.

Dr. Bangalore yowled in horror, which caught the Yeti's attention. It swung at the man, taking his head off with its sword-like claws. A geyser of blood shot from Bangalore's neck as his body fell and his severed head rolled across the floor.

My heart pounding like a Buddy Rich solo, I ran down the corridor. Not three seconds later, the hallway door gave out as the Yeti pounded through it. Three staff members in the hallway stood motionless with fright.

"Get back in your rooms," I shouted. They did.

I was at the end of the corridor. There was nowhere to go as the Yeti grew nearer. I hoisted the bazooka onto my shoulder and mustered every iota of discipline I had. I couldn't fire until I was reasonably certain I would hit the creature. I had but one shot. If I missed, I was Purina Yeti Chow.

The bullets it took had slowed the Yeti down, but I had no doubt it could still tear me limb from limb. The monster's slackened pace gave me a chance to aim the bazooka. When the Yeti was about six feet away, I fired. A missile blasted from the barrel and hit the monster squarely in the chest. The Yeti exploded, showering me with a disgusting spatter of blood, bones, fur, bodily fluids, and chunks of internal organs.

Where the Yeti had stood was now a blackened spot on the floor and a pair of feet with legs up to the knee. Several small fires burned on the floor, walls and ceiling, filling the hallway with smoke. Plus, the backburn from my bazooka had set the wall behind me ablaze. An alarm sounded, causing the staff to rush from their rooms to the main entrance. I joined them as the fires grew. Within seconds, Himansh was engulfed in flames.

Outside, the colonel stood with two soldiers. At least four dead ones lay in the snow. He ordered us to the helicopter. Not two minutes later, we were in the air, the fiery wreckage of Himansh fading into the pitch-black Himalayan night.

* * *

With the Yeti blown to pieces, so was any evidence of his existence. The official story was that Himansh was destroyed, and its scientists killed, in an avalanche.

Before he let me leave India, the colonel took me to an interrogation room. He spent several hours making sure I understood there would be serious repercussions if I said anything about a Yeti once I was back home. A strongly worded letter to our U.N. ambassador from India's backed up the colonel's threats.

The Indian M.P.s snatched Arun Khatri mere seconds after the helicopter set down. No one has seen or heard from him since. As for the other Himansh survivors, they're not talking. I can only assume they received debriefings similar to mine.

I didn't bother trying to sell Vincenzo on my Yeti story. He had never believed me before and certainly wouldn't now. Still, as the only reporter on Earth who was there when Himansh was wrecked, I wrote a first-hand account that was picked up by news agencies all over the world. For the moment, I was the golden boy of I.N.S. But I'd screw that up soon enough.

As for Howard Kirschenbaum, he's now formerly of the I.N.S. corporate office. A furious Vincenzo went over the man's head, complaining that Kirschenbaum had willfully, deliberately, and unnecessarily sent a reporter into a life-threatening situation. That wasn't strictly true, but it was nice to have Tony on my side for once. So I kept my mouth shut. Kirschenbaum was let go, but not without a severance package that dwarfed the G.D.P. of entire nations. The rich do look out for their own.

India's Ministry of Earth Sciences put out a press release that Himansh will be rebuilt. That made me think of the Yeti. Was the beast I killed the only one up there? Were its attacks rooted in the resentment of humans intruding on its home? What if more of those things are lurking in the snows of the Himalayas? How safe will the next group of scientists be? Time will tell.

\- 30 -


End file.
